One Week
by Oneshadedarker
Summary: Moogles, tonberries, Squall and the act of a lifetime, remembered in the span of a week. To someone as random as Yuffie it was a recipe toward disaster. But when had Squall ever made anything easy?


Fair bit of caution with this one...it makes no sense. Really, it doesn't. It's pretty old and I'm sure I posted it up once...and then went into one of my moods and took it down. Not sure how long I'll leave it up this time but I do kinda like it. I knew I was feeling particularly random and Yuffie-ish when I wrote it...it reflects, I'm sure. Regardless I hope you like. If you don't understand it then welcome to the club. I don't either. And I won't ever understand it...ever...such is the burden I bear (walks away dejectedly)

Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts or any of its characters and make no profit from this story, I do solemly swear.

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_Mondays child is fair of face,_

When she was younger Squall (because his name, regardless of Kings, evil scowls and general popular opinion he was _Squall_ damn it!) bought her plushies. They were charming, fluffy miniature imitations of the rampant adorability that were moogles, moombas, tonberries –okay, not so much because knives and five year olds just don't mix- but the basic idea was that she had _enough _of them to catalog the entire planets bestiary twice over.

Because Squall was an ass, a major, incredible, doesn't understand that children need care, love and attention instead of general avoidance and two syllable monotony type of ass and whenever his assholeness (yes, it is a word because _she_ said so and Squall practiced it enough to make his picture a dictionary definition) got the best of him he gave her a plushie, bells and all. By the time she was ten no one could get into her room without crossing the tonberry moat and moomba sentry squad.

_Tuesdays child is full of grace,_

In a months time she could accumulate as much as twenty (twenty-five if Squall and Cloud were within two feet of each other) and she would remind him over and over that bribery of a child is a felony and that it solved nothing but made maintenance for Aerith a real bitch. But as she grew the plushies became less and less, not because Squall was less of an ass – Hell would freeze over and Cloud would speak in full sentences before that happened- but because, once she received her first weapon, things were settled in the arena instead.

Eventually the dolls were lost the day Hollow Bastion was attacked (her moat hadn't been able to stop them thought they'd put up a brilliant fight. Tifa would have been proud.) But they burned, just like everything else and all she had left were the ashes, not nearly enough to salvage. But she was young and she'd make due, with weapons and curses and her bare hands if she had to. And those nights when her bed felt too empty she'd wander to Squalls room and listen to him breathe, his presence her dream catcher. And she could forgive him. It was just that simple.

_Wednesdays child is full of woe,_

But today, _today _Squall had really, really, _really _crossed the line _stupid, stupid Leon Squallhart_ –because she adamantly refused to call him Leon Leonhart…if he was going to change his name then he would have to live with the consequences damn him-.

What did he do you ask?

Nothing.

Absolutely, positively, freaking nothing.

Nothing when they woke up, nothing when they ate breakfast, nothing when they went on Heartless patrol, _nothing_. No 'Good Morning' or 'Hello' or even '…' (There are incredible differences between his trademark '…', those being _Yuffie, you are the big red annoyance button in my make believe console of life _and this one being '.#$!' as in _the fuck?_ cause even Yuffie couldn't decipher this one).

_Thursdays child has far to go,_

She thought they were past the entire brooding hopeless cloud he constantly generated wherever he walked, were past the looking back on things lost and promises broken, were past _Leon_ and had come full circle back to Squall, were past the _past _and staring toward the future paved with their dreams and hopes and ambitions.

Apparently she was wrong because they'd mauled Squall with a two by four and were worshipping Leon on a pedestal of stone made with Sora's keyblade (Yuffie couldn't believe _that_ was the ultimate weapon of salvation…they could have just asked her, she had, like, twelve really scary looking house keys) but the point was, Squall was turning back into Leon and she was fucking annoyed beyond hell.

So she did what any reasonable, prudent young ninja woman would do.

"Leon Squallhart you… _you_ are a fucking asshole with the goddamn emotional sense of a rock and I hope you and your gunblade have an incredible life with your 2.5 gun children because you are never getting into anyone's pants which is really sad cause _even _Cloud is getting ass and I really freaking hate you..."

The rest of the sentence had become incoherent drabble and Yuffie had simply walked away in as much of a dramatic exit as it was an unspoken slight.

When she complained to Aerith (as was the regular custom because Aerith could smile and damn your soul to oblivion at the same time. Yuffie was pretty sure that Cloud had yet to leave because he'd realized he was dating _the_ Messiah with the power of Ultima Weapon and even Sephiroth wasn't fucking with that…again).

Aerith had then decided to be traitorous (or sensible as Cloud later pointed out) and tell her that they'd found a box of his old letters. Old letters meaning love letters. Love letters meaning Rinoa. Rinoa meaning Yuffie had been a major, major, foot in her mouth, pole up her ass, Sephiroth cutting the world in half with his big ass sword type of bitch.

Chocolate chip cookies weren't gonna fix this mess.

For the next two days there had been silence from both camps, Yuffie with her hundred story fort complete with candy turrets, chocobo knights, rainbow striped soldier uniforms and a bright, sparkling red ninja banner at its top. And then there was Squall with his grey, one is the loneliest number fort complete with a real moat filled with crocodiles and cannons and soldiers and _shit Squall is really trying to kill me_.

Apparently metaphors were lost on Yuffie.

So she decided to be the bigger person, no, the biggest, tallest, smartest _I'm not eight I'm eighteen regardless of my A cup _and did what men and women had done since the beginning of time.

She threw a shuriken at him.

He threw a fireball at her.

Aerith's magnolias went straight to hell in a picnic basket.

They were both too angry to care.

In the end both lay panting in the bailey, having crossed over rooftops, barricades, fields, the marketplace, Merlin's house, Cid and his computer, anything and everything that would earn them a handful of coal for Christmas and the withdrawal of their Radiant Garden gym memberships for the rest of eternity.

"I still hate you." She murmured into the crook of her arm, sprawled on the dirt floor staring at Leon's shoes. They'd known each other long enough that the subtext was really all he heard.

'_I'm sorry' _

"…"

_Fridays child is loving and giving,_

And Yuffie smiled because she could read between the lines too and Squall was finally making as much sense as Yuffie gave him credit for. So they had a trademark moment full of silent stares and odd blinks and Yuffie asking him exactly how many freaking belts he had because at least half had deflected her shurikens before the world stopped on its axis.

"…YUFFIE…LEON!"

Oh shit…they'd forgotten about Aerith.

They both shared a look, a deep, thoughtful; _it's your fault_ type of glance before rushing toward Merlin's house. If nothing else, Merlin knew reflect.

They both had a feeling they'd need it.

Two weeks and several spars later Yuffie entered her room to find a frayed and dusty moogle plushy on her bed, cow bell and all. Yuffie had stared at it, poking its pom pom to see if it was really real and bit her lower lip to keep herself from smiling.

"Squall, you ass."

Because when you're Leon you always say 'I'm sorry' but when you're Squall…when you're Squall you're tired of saying sorry, you're too proud to say you're sorry, too stubborn, too hot headed, too rebellious, too everything that Leon isn't and never would be.

_Saturdays child works hard for his living,_

And Yuffie was beginning to understand that it wasn't bribery, it wasn't perfect and it wasn't _completely_ Squall.

But it was a start. And Yuffie was grateful.

By months end Yuffie had nearly every plushy she'd ever owned back in her room (along with a few new ones because Squall was still an ass).

_And the child that is born on the Sabbath day...  
_

Aerith sighed, looking for a broom.

Cloud had fallen twice into her Tonberry moat and was stabbed in the eye by a plushy butcher's knife.

Squall didn't apologize.

And for the first time since her return to Radiant Garden…

Yuffie felt like she was home. Assholes, plushies, idiots and all.

_...Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay._


End file.
